By challenge forth; make good thy vaunt, or yield! Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight? Rash boy, men look on Rustum’s face, and flee! For well I know, that did great Rustum stand Before thy face this day, and were revealed, There would be then no talk of fighting more. But being what I am, I tell thee this,-- Do thou record it in thine inmost soul: Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt, and yield, Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer-floods, Oxus in summer wash them all away.” He spoke; and Sohrab answered, on his feet,-- “Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fight me so! I am no girl, to be made pale by words. Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand Here on this field, there were no fighting then. But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here. Begin! thou art more vast, more dread than I; And thou art proved, I know, and I am young-- But yet success sways with the breath of Heaven. And though thou thinkest that thou knowest sure Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know. For we are all, like swimmers in the sea, Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate, Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall; And whether it will heave us up to land, Or whether it will roll us out to sea,-- Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death,-- We know not, and no search will make us know: Only the event will teach us in its hour.” He spoke; and Rustum answered not, but hurled His spear: down from the shoulder, down it came, As on some partridge in the corn a hawk, That long has towered in the airy clouds, Drops like a plummet; Sohrab saw it come, And sprang aside, quick as a flash; the spear Hissed, and went quivering down into the sand, Which it sent flying wide. Then Sohrab threw In turn, and full struck Rustum’s shield; sharp rang, The iron plates rang sharp, but turned the spear. And Rustum seized his club, which none but he Could wield; an unlopped trunk it was, and huge, Still rough,--like those which men in treeless plains To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers, Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up By their dark springs, the wind in winter-time Hath made in Himalayan forests wrack, And strewn the channels with torn boughs,--so huge The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside, Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum’s hand. And Rustum followed his own blow, and fell To his knees, and with his fingers clutched the sand. And now might Sohrab have unsheathed his sword, And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand; But he looked on, and smiled, nor bared his sword, But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said,--